


You Know my Arms are Aching (to be wrapped around your spine)

by Imogen_Penn



Series: Rest Your Arms [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_Penn/pseuds/Imogen_Penn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I get that I never really had anything, I do. I just wish…I just wish you’d told me, that night. I wish you’d just said you didn’t want…” his nerve only went so far, and they had made a currency of holding back words for so long, he didn’t want to be the one to say it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know my Arms are Aching (to be wrapped around your spine)

Well I guess something’s got to give something’s gotta snap

Something must be frayed ’cause it’s all in lines and it’s all in grids

There’s codes in sounds there are codes in lines

If we all lay down we can see it all from the ground

I know your arms are shaking from holding up the sky

-          Rest Your Arm (Low low low la la la love love love)

 

It would have been easy to make a change for her, to make a change _about_ her. But she had been right. She was right a lot of the time. It was a bit annoying really, but now that he knew her a little, and wanted to know her more, it was the sort of annoying that made him smile rather than snap.

So instead of finding a new reason to ignore the world around him, he started making a concerted effort to find out about it.

+

+

“So,” he approached Darcy with a bit of trepidation. He hadn’t seen her since two nights ago on the balcony. Not due to any effort on either of their parts, but because Steve couldn’t put down _East of Eden_ and a mild Avengers related situation had intervened. “What’s next on the reading list?”

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Already? Even with that whole…robot thing last night?”

“Couldn’t put it down,” he said, sitting in an overstuffed chair across from where she was curled up on the couch. “And the robot thing was over pretty quickly. Banner seemed to have a great time. The rest of us mostly stood around and watched.”

Maybe it was a bit of an oversimplification, but it had been kind of _fun_. Clearly, Natasha had spread the word to the team that Steve had started mending his fences, and they had given up on the silent treatment like it had never happened.

Not that they wouldn’t have taken orders from the Captain anyways, but there was something comforting about Tony poking fun at him for having no idea what a circuit board was.

“Well, did you like it?” She put aside her own book, pulling herself upright.

“The robots?”

“The book, you meatball,” she rolled her eyes and wacked him on the arm with her paperback. He was pretty sure his answering smile was foolish, but he didn’t care.

“It wasn’t exactly what I thought you would have chosen,” he said with a wry grin. “But it was gripping.”

“You thought I was going to go easy on you, huh?” Darcy asked with a laugh.

“I suppose I did,” and he was beginning to realize by the way she looked positively gleeful about this that he had a lot to learn about her.

“Well how would that help to broaden your cultural comfort zone Captain Rogers?” she was awfully smug.

“Alright, point taken professor Lewis,” he grinned. “What’s next? What are you reading?”

“No skipping,” she said, “there’s a lot of context you are gonna need before you can appreciate the staggering genius of David Sedaris.” She paused, considering, “I think your next assignment is to actually leave the tower without your suit on.” She grinned, “Go find out what Starbucks is and bring me back something chocolaty.”

“You don’t want to come?” he was genuinely surprised. It was probably the first normal conversation they had ever had, and the way she kept smiling at him…

She just picked up her book and waived it at him, “Some of us don’t have as much down time, Cap. And I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own. Just remember to ask for help if you feel any stranger danger.”

She was teasing, he was pretty sure of that. “Stranger danger?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“S’How they used to teach us about being safe in elementary school,” she supplied, opening her book to her marker. “Don’t forget lots of whip cream.”

He was clearly being dismissed.

As he walked out of the tower lobby, he started to wonder exactly how seriously Darcy was taking this whole ‘starting over’ thing. Because even though he felt easier around her, and she smiled, and teased, it wasn’t nearly the same as the way she had looked up at him when she was pressed against him on the balcony, and Steve didn’t know if he’d ever have the nerve to be that bold again.

+

+

“So Cap,” Clint pulled up a chair to the kitchen table, slinging himself over it backwards. That man could never just sit down like a normal human being, “You’ve decided to stop being an ass to Darcy, I hear.”

That man could never just be tactful like a normal human being.

“Yes, I suppose that’s the long and the short of it,” he said, putting down his coffee.

“Does that mean you’re unclenching a bit? Because Tony is _useless_ as a wing man, and there’s this band playing tonight just down the street. Wanna go?”

“Unclenching?” because it was the first in a long list of things in that sentence that didn’t quite make sense to him.

“Oh come on Steve,” Clint rolled his eyes, “You’ve been keeping yourself so far away from anything that could be characterized as fun that doesn’t involve beating the crap out of something that you might as well still be frozen.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably. “Am I going to have to have this conversation with _everyone,”_ he half muttered.

“Oh is _that_ what you talked to Darcy about,” Clint raised his eyebrows, “ _fun_?” The suggestion was unmistakable.

“Nothing like that,” Steve lied through his teeth immediately, “She just had similar things to say about me…not really acclimatizing very well.”

“So come out, acclimatize, have some fun!” Clint wheedled. “You’re a free man! What better way to get used to the 21st century than to meet a modern girl.”

Steve most definitely did _not_ want to go out and meet a modern girl. But then again, he also hadn’t wanted to walk around the city by himself yesterday, and that had turned out okay. And if Darcy really thought he should go out and find a place for himself in this world without her help, well then he had better get to it, shouldn’t he?

He tried not to dwell on the fact that it was more irritation and a bit of bruised ego that lead him to accept Clint’s offer than a real desire to get out and meet people.

+

+

He had to admit, after he made it back to the Tower and saw Tony and Clint sufficiently hydrated and tucked into bed, that he had had a pretty good time.

It was…normal, familiar even, hanging out with a few of his comrades in arms. It reminded him of some of those glory days with the Howling Commandos. And maybe the content of the conversation had changed a bit, and maybe he had to ask them to explain a reference every now and again, but it was like variations on a theme. It wasn’t as different, or as frightening, as he had thought.

And after his very firm negative reaction to Tony’s first attempt to introduce him to a woman, they got the message, and didn’t try again.

+

+

“Heard you went out with the boys last night.” Darcy wandered into the kitchen, setting a fresh pot of coffee brewing.

Steve looked up, he was working on a crossword.

“Yeah,” he said with a little grin, “Someone told me I should get out and see the world.”

“Sounds like a very smart person,” she quipped, resting against the counter as she waited for her coffee. “Did you have any fun?”

“You know,” he said, setting down his pen, “It wasn’t all that different from hanging out with my squad in the old days. I mean, I still don’t get all the movie references, but the idea is the same.”

“They didn’t shock you with their foul language and modern ideas?” She waggled her eyebrows with false drama.

He laughed, “You know, I don’t think anyone in the modern world has shocked me quite as much as Bucky used to, the way he used to talk about dames…” he trailed off with a grin, only a little bit sad.

“Bucky?” Darcy asked carefully.

“He’s…he was my best friend,” said Steve carefully, “And the best man to have at your side in a pinch.” He paused, a corner of his mouth quirking up, “and he had more luck with women than anyone I’ve ever seen.” He left it at that, not willing to go too far down this particular path over the breakfast table.

“Sounds like a good man,” said Darcy carefully, and then let the subject drop when Steve didn’t do anything more than nod.

“So what about you,” she said, sounding a bit forced, “you meet any dames last night?”

This set him off balance for a moment. What did she think of him? That he just went around being bold and kissing girls on balconies all the time? That he’d really be that fickle in his intentions? Did it mean that _she_ was that fickle? Could she really push aside what had happened on the balcony only a week ago so firmly out of her mind? Hadn’t it meant anything to her at all?

He realized he had been silent for too long. A thick and uncomfortable tension was filling the room.

“A few,” he said evenly. And then after an expectant silence, “they were very…modern.”

He was looking directly at her, trying to read her reaction. Did she _want_ him to be seeing other women? Is that what she meant when she said she couldn’t be the only thing tying him here?

She was looking at him, but she was hard for him to read. She could be very closed off, he was discovering, when there was something she wanted to hide.

The buzz of the coffee machine startled them out of their standoff.

“I better get down to the lab,” she said quickly, as she poured herself a cup, “Jane’s on a roll or something.” She paused by the doorway, “I’m glad you had fun Steve,” she said. And she sounded like she meant it, but damned if he knew what she meant _by_ it.

+

+

“Got another one for you Steve,” Darcy flopped down on the couch next to him in the living room.

“Another what?” he asked, somewhat surprised to see her around on a Friday night. While he had been spending more and more time with the team, and out in the world in general, he seemed to be spending less and less time with her. Or rather, the time that he _could_ be spending with her was bothering him more and more.

In answer, she plopped a book down on the couch between them.

“To Kill a Mockingbird?” he read the title questioningly. “Is it about hunting or something?”

Darcy laughed. “No Steve, just read it. I guarantee you about 90% of everyone you meet today read it in eighth grade English class.”

He flipped to the inside cover. He was rather disappointed to find no inscription. But the publication date did catch his eye.

“1960?” he asked, “It’s another month until Christmas,” it was the first time he’d made a remark anywhere close to touching on that night.

“Bruce said you made a Star Wars joke the other night,” she said with a grin, “I figured since you were skipping ahead anyways…”

“Natasha, of all people, was horrified that I hadn’t seen it,” he said. And, taking the book as a good sign, he soldiered forward, “You know, everyone seems to be pretty keen on taking me out to experience modern culture.” _Except for you_. He felt like the subtext was hanging in the air between them.

Apparently, she didn’t pick up on it.

“And yet here you are, staying in on a Friday night,” she quipped.

“I’m _vegging_ ,” he said, rather awkwardly attempting to use the “air quotes” Tony had explained last week.

Darcy burst out laughing, and all the discomfort and awkwardness he had been feeling, not knowing where he stood with her, just seemed to melt away for the moment.

“Did I do that wrong?” he asked, her laughter making him smile.

“No no,” she said wiping at her eyes, “it was just so…”

“Awkward?” Steve suggested.

 “Yeah,” she agreed, “it was awkward.” But she elbowed him playfully.

“You want to _veg_ with me?” he laid it on a little thick, just to see her smile, “Natasha queued up a bunch of modern interpretations of Shakespeare. She said it would be instructive.”

“She’s probably right,” said Darcy, “I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Steve waited until she had moved into the kitchen to grin like an idiot.

When she came back, though, she sat a little farther from him, and placed the bowl of popcorn in between them.

“Which Shakespeare play is this one?” Steve asked in confusion after a moment.

“Hamlet,” said Darcy around a mouthful of popcorn. Steve found it unreasonably adorable.

“But…with lions?” he asked again.

She threw a bit of popcorn at his head with surprising accuracy. “Just watch the movie doofus,” she said with a grin.

+

+

It had taken him a while, and a lot of nerve to work up to it, but it was mid-December, and the holidays had always been nostalgic for him. And the thought of his first Christmas in this new world made him ache for the old one. So he sat down one day and made himself remember.

He pulled out his laptop, opened an internet search, and started looking.

He was surprised by the amount of material he found. They were all there, the Howling Commandos, Howard Stark, Peggy, Bucky. Black and white photos, history books, scratched and choppy propaganda reels.

Families, children, productive lives.

And finally, gravestones, endings, plots and plaques that verified the utter emptiness of each and every important person of his life before.

There was a knock on the door.

He looked up sharply, surprised to find his face damp with tears.

“Who is it,” his voice was thick.

“It’s me,” Darcy’s voice was low and familiar. “Jarvis said maybe you could use a friend?”

He let out a breath, and then got up and opened the door.

“Oh Steve,” She was looking up at him again, present and focused.

Her hand reached up, cupping his face, her thumb wiping at his tears.

He pulled her inside, closing his door behind them, and just wrapped his arms around her and let his head rest against hers. Let her gently smooth her hands across his back, and let himself not worry about what it meant or where they stood for now, because it was okay that they were standing right here.

After a few minutes, he pulled himself away and led her to sit on the edge of his bed. And he sat with her, and he told her the stories about Bucky you couldn’t find on the internet, and he told her about Peggy, and the commandos, and he didn’t mind that he cried for some of it, and her arm around his waist and her head resting against his shoulder made it alright.

+

+

He thought, maybe, that after that, the distance that she held between them might disappear, that maybe she would give him an opening, and he could be bold.

But it didn’t happen.

He could feel her watching him though, he could _see_ it. Probably because he was watching her as well.

Whatever dance it was they were doing, Steve definitely didn’t know the steps and she wouldn’t give him an inch so that he could learn.

It was frustrating, in more ways than one. He often found himself wondering what it meant that she could annoy him so easily. The way she got to him, got under his skin with unceasing accuracy, it reminded him of Bucky, and it made him know intimately and exactly the sort of feeling that could lead a girl like Peggy to fire a gun at someone who was pissing her off.

Not that he would _ever_. But he thought it some days, when she would tell him about something close to her heart, but never let him in, or when she would move just a little bit farther away if he tried to press closer.

Evidently, they were becoming fairly obvious about it.

Or not, but they were in a house full of incredibly observant people.

“So,” Clint vaulted up into the back of the couch where Steve was sitting, half watching TV, half running through what Darcy possibly could have meant by her quip this morning that he could use a bit more _experience_. “You and Darce, hey?” He planted his feet on the seat next to Steve and balanced effortlessly on the top cushion.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, trying to look like he hadn’t just been thinking about what kind of experience she might have meant and the experiences he’d really like to have with her.

“I’m not blind Steve,” he said rather smugly, “In fact, I’m kind of known for being good at _seeing_ things.”

“Oh,” Steve questioned in as casual a tone as he could manage, eyes focused forward, “And what is it that you think you see?”

“You and Darcy making yourselves miserable with whatever weird little chess game you are playing.”

“Oh,” said Steve stiffly, “That.”

“Listen Cap, I’m not gonna get all awkward about this, because I get ya. I mean, toss myself off a building? Sure. Talk to someone about _feelings_? No thank you. But just make a goddamn move already. You’ll never know until you do.” He spun his feet around and hopped off the couch. “Plus, pretty sure Tasha is a heartbeat away from putting some money on the outcome, so you might want to avoid that.”

Steve often got the feeling, when Clint was around, that he was being talked _at_ rather than too. Didn’t mean the man didn’t have a point though.

+

+

“Hey Darcy,” his hands were sweaty. He couldn’t remember one single instance in his life since the serum where he was conscious of his hands being sweaty.

“Hey Steve,” she was baking something. Must be oatmeal shortbread. He had been informed earlier in the week that there was a very important and traditional Christmas cookie order that must be followed, and the thought of being a part of her Christmas traditions had made him smile.

“You have a minute?” he must have sounded somewhat serious, because she put down the bowl she was holding and turned to face him. She had a little swipe of flour on her cheek and her hair was fighting to escape from its messy top knot. And she was so beautiful to him that it almost made his heart stop.

“Yeah, of course,” she looked at him expectantly.

“Well, I was wondering…” he really should have run through this in his head a few more times. “You know Tony’s big Christmas party next week?”

“Oh yeah,” she said brightly, smiling, “Should be really fun.”

“So…you’re planning to go?” he winced. Of _course_ she was planning to go. She had been talking about it since early November.

She gave him a bit of an incredulous look, because she knew exactly how stupid of a question it was.

“Were you going to, ah…go…with anyone?” He should have worn the suit. It would have looked stupid, hanging out in the kitchen, but at least he usually knew what to say when he was wearing it.

“Oh,” she froze, like a deer in headlights, and Steve’s stomach sank, “I think we’re all planning on going together. I mean, Pep and Tony’ll be there early, but the rest of us are getting a fancy limo or something. Should I…do we need room for any more? Are you…bringing someone?”

“No Darcy,” he sighed in frustration. “Of _course_ I’m not.” He had his answer, he supposed as he repressed the urge to scuff at the ground when he turned to go. How many times would she have to push him towards other women before he got the hint?

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” the indignation in her voice just _pushed_ right at his frustration and he turned back to face him, all that nervous tension somehow just boiling right over.

“It means,” he ground out, “that I’m _really_ sick of always losing things I want.”

“ _Losing_?” she sounded a bit breathless, like the wind had been knocked out of her. But he was on a roll now.

“I get that I never really _had_ anything, I do. I just wish…I just wish you’d told me, that night. I wish you’d just said you didn’t want…” his nerve only went so far, and they had made a currency of holding back words for so long, he didn’t want to be the one to say it.

“Steve…” her eyes were wide, and she looked so _surprised_ that he wondered for a moment if maybe he’d got entirely the wrong end of the stick somewhere along the line.

And then the building’s alarm started blaring.

They stood there, Jarvis calling the Avengers to assemble on the roof, for a long moment.

“I have to go,” he said finally. But he couldn’t bring himself to move.

She reached out and took his hand. “Come find me when you get home,” she said, gripping his fingers so tight it almost hurt, “please.”

+

+

When they finally made it back to the tower, almost 12 hours later, he was in no shape to find Darcy.

He had almost become accustomed to coming out of a fight exhausted but relatively unharmed. Whatever that…thing in the water off the coast had been, though, it had cost him a bit more than he was used to.

And there was nothing the medical staff could do for the pain, so he was lying in his bed, trying not to move as he could _feel_ his ribs grinding back into place.

Time ticked by at a painfully slow rate, so he was almost relieved for the distraction when Jarvis announced that Darcy was at the door, and should he show her in? Almost relived, but it wasn’t quite enough to calm the churning in his gut at the thought of seeing her right now. His defenses were low, and after…whatever that was in the kitchen, he was even more unsure of how to _be_ around her.

It didn’t stop him from letting her in, though. He didn’t think there was anything that ever could.

“Hey,” she said quietly, hovering at the door.

“Hi,” he responded awkwardly as he tried to sit up, and then immediately regretted it, collapsing back against the pillows with a groan.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from over by the doorway.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to school his expression. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

“You’re _not_ ,” said Darcy, her voice sounding thick and scratchy. “Tony said…but I didn’t really believe him.”

“I’ll _be_ fine,” he amended with a grimace, “Will you…will you just come over here?”

He could hear the pathetic edge to his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He worried, though, because she looked wary as she approached.

But she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and reached out a tentative hand, cool against his forehead, as she smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

“How’re you feeling,” she asked gently, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Better,” he answered unthinkingly, but was pleased to see the ghost of a smile on her face anyways.

“I didn’t know….” She swallowed heavily, “I didn’t know you could get hurt like this.” Her face looked very pale in the dim light coming through the windows.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, the whole vulnerability thing isn’t too good for my image.”

“So Captain America gets to defeat the bad guys and get all the red carpet press, while Steve Rogers has to take all the shit home with him.” She said flatly.

“Doesn’t sounds like a very good deal when you put it like that,” he tried to keep his tone light, but it wasn’t very effective. He winced as something in his chest snapped back into place with an audible pop.

Darcy’s hand clutched his arm and she gasped. “Jesus Steve,” she breathed.

“It’ll be fine,” he said weakly, “one of the cons of quick healing, is all.”

“You all hide it so well,” she said shakily, “what it really means to do what you do.”

“It’s part of the job,” Steve said evenly, recognizing the tone in her voice with a sinking feeling, “Honestly I think all that red carpet press stuff is worse,” he tried to joke. But it was lacking any kind of enthusiasm, because he knew this moment. This was the moment where someone figured out that it wasn’t an easy thing to be around someone who did what he did. It was the moment where someone got out while the getting was good.

Darcy didn’t really answer him, but after a moment, her fingers still wrapped tight around his arm, she said “I was so scared for you tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” he said resignedly, “I don’t ever want to make you worry like that.”

“Yeah, well,” said Darcy with a strangled laugh, “it’s a little late for that now.”

“Darcy,” he started, not really knowing where he was going with it, but she interrupted him anyways.

“Shhh,” she squeezed his arm, “Don’t worry about it. We can talk about it later. Just tell me what I can do.”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment. He knew he should just smile and tell her he was fine, and let her go back to her life, stop fighting and let her push him away. Because he thought maybe he understood now. Even if she had _meant_ that kiss on the balcony, even if, all else being equal, she would be with him, things weren’t equal, and she was _right_ to not want the Captain in her life. 

But he was going to have to do the right thing tomorrow, because right now he couldn’t contain his anger at all of the things that being Captain America had stolen from him, and Steve Rogers was going to take something that was _his_ for once, dammit.

“Stay,” he said simply, looking up at her. “Just stay.”

She bit her lip, but she nodded. She slipped carefully under the covers as he held them up for her, and they lay there quietly, his chest pressed against her back, one arm under her head, and the smell of her hair floating back to him as he breathed deeply. She tensed every time he did, waiting out the pain with him as his injuries healed. But she didn’t leave. And finally, well into the early hours of the morning, he fell asleep.

+

+

When he woke up, his injuries were mostly healed and the relief at being free from the pain was a palpable thing.

But then he noticed that he was alone, and the sheets beside him were cool.

He sighed heavily. It hadn’t been his best decision ever, asking her to stay. Now, with the feel of her pressed against him indelibly marked on his skin, it was going to be even harder to let her go. But he hated that look that had been in her eyes last night, the fear and the worry. He never wanted to be the cause of it.

Right now, if he could do it, he would quit all of his abilities; quit being the Captain, just for this one shot at something approaching a normal life.

But he couldn’t stop being who he was, even for her.

+

+

She was in the kitchen when he walked in, looking freshly showered, but tired. She was talking with Natasha in low tones, but they stopped abruptly when they saw him.

“Morning Steve,” Natasha said evenly, standing up from the table, “I was just on my way out.” This, for her, was about as obvious as her shouting ‘you two need to talk’ over the tower’s PA system.

But she was right, so he just nodded at her absently as she left, his eyes fixed on Darcy.

“Good morning,” he said carefully, not moving from the doorway. He wanted to keep his exits open. He was such a coward.

“Listen,” she said without preamble, “About what you said in the kitchen, before…”

Steve closed his eyes, he felt like he was in freefall, the way his gut lurched. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to steel himself to have this conversation.

“I said a lot of things,” he finally said quietly, looking back to her. It wasn’t fair to her, he knew that. But was it too goddamn much to ask that Steve Rogers catch a break one of these days?

“Yeah,” she agreed evenly, “but it was the part about…about wanting me, that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. Especially not after last night.”

He sucked in a breath, the way she was kept pushing into his world only to pull back was rubbing him raw. “You say that like I haven’t been wanting you for _months,_ ” he ground out irritably. “You just keep pushing me away. I wish I had never said anything.”

He also immediately wished that he hadn’t said _that._ But what’s done is done, and he just closed his eyes again, willing this whole mess to just be _over_.

There was a long pause. And then finally, “Steve…” and she sounded so lost that he turned back to her in spite of himself. She was crying, tears streaking her cheeks.

He moved towards her, taking her hand before he even thought about it. “Hey,” he said, the look on her face sucking all of the venom right out of him, “it’s okay. You never promised me anything. I’ll get over it.” He smiled weakly, “besides, you were right, there is a lot of good stuff for me here.” He squeezed her hand, “I’m even starting to get used to Clint,” he tried to joke, but he could hear that it fell flat.

“No,” she shook her head firmly, “That’s not what I…” she laughed damply. “God, I am so _bad_ at this.”

“Bad at what?” he asked gently, the smallest beginnings of something like hope bubbling upwards.

“ _This_ ,” she gestured between the two of them. “I keep screwing things up. You should really stay very far away from me.” She wiped at her eyes with one hand, but Steve kept an iron grip on the other, refusing to let her pull away.

“Why?” he asked, unwilling to let this go now that they were finally _talking_.

She laughed darkly. “Steve, come on. I’m a mess. I thought the best way to help you get over what you had lost was to be really irritating and throw it in your face all the time. And I had the _excellent_ judgment to fall for you even when you were barely speaking to me. I slipped up, that night on the balcony. I should never have…” she trailed off for a moment, “Steve,” she said finally, “you deserve so much more than me. I’ve been trying to stay away so you could…so you could find someone else, someone better.” She refused to meet his eyes.

“Darcy,” said Steve, mind reeling, stuck somewhere in the vicinity of _fall for you_ , “How can you think that?”

She shrugged, chin ducked, avoiding his gaze, but her fingers were still gripping his hand where he held her, so he wasn’t going to let this go. “I’m just…I’m convenient, Steve. I’m the only single girl you spend any amount of time with. How do you know what’s out there for you if you won’t even look?”

“Why should I look,” he asked, “when I’ve already found what I want?” He willed her to _look_ at him. To stop thinking that she had all the answers for a moment and really _look_.

But she was avoiding his gaze. God she was stubborn when she got something into her head.

But she _wanted_ him. She wasn’t running away because she didn’t want to be with him, but because she had some crazy idea that there was anyone out there that was _better_ than her. And _that_ he could remedy.

Let it never be said that Steve Rogers backed down from a challenge.

“Darce,” he said, tipping her chin up with a soft smile, “Pay attention for a minute would you?” her eyes flicked up to his, and he kissed her. It didn’t seem odd to him, not at all, that while he’d never been very good at finding the right moment to kiss other girls, that he had no problem kissing Darcy. It was different than the other time on the balcony, because there was a lot more between them now. Friendship and trust and, if he was honest, a long simmering tension that started boiling over the moment he felt her lips part under his.

She made a desperate little noise in the back of her throat as her teeth grazed his lip and her fingers clutched at his shirt and Steve was gone. One hand tangled in her hair, the other clutched at her hip, fingers digging into flesh as he pressed against her, trying to put every last ounce of what he felt into it, trying to make her understand.

Her nails scraped along the small of his back, hand worked up under his shirt and he had to pull away to stop himself from throwing her against the wall and never letting her leave. He was breathing hard and he pulled his hips away from hers to preserve his modesty as he tried to get himself under control.

“Shit,” he swore, looking at her mussed hair and her swollen lips, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” her voice was low and husky, “don’t you _dare_ apologize for that.”

He grinned, “yes ma’am.” But his amusement was short lived as she looked at him seriously.

“You…you really mean it, don’t you.” She said hesitantly.

“Every word of it,” he agreed readily, “But if this isn’t what you want…if it’s…too much, we can just…I can walk away.” He wasn’t really sure if he could, but he had to give her the option, “I know that…the Captain…it’s a lot to deal with. I would understand…”

“I was really scared last night,” she said, breaking her gaze, but then she moved closer to rest her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her gladly. “It _was_ a lot to take.” He could feel her breath against his shoulder and he held her a little tighter, as if he could take all her burdens onto himself.

“Natasha set me straight about it though,” he thought he could feel her smile.

“Oh yeah?” he prompted gently, because he wasn’t quite sure of his footing here yet.

“Yeah,” she said, and that was definitely a smile. “In typically blunt Natasha fashion. She asked me if pushing you away had made me love you any less.” Steve froze. “It didn’t,” Darcy went on. “So Tasha quite rightly pointed out that it was better to just be with you if I was going to worry about you either way.”

“You love me?” Steve blurted out, pushing her away a bit so he could look at her.

“Oh,” there was a blush creeping up her neck, “Well…yeah. Obviously,” she said sheepishly.

 “Well it wasn’t obvious to me,” said Steve with a grin that he felt was about to split his face in two. He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah,” she leaned into his hand, “we really need to work on our communication skills.”

That triggered a thought, he had barely dared to let himself think it before, but that didn’t make it any less true.  “You know I love you too, right?” he asked.

“I do now,” said Darcy, smiling up at him as she twined her fingers through his hair and pulled him down to her so she could kiss him, soft and sweet.

They were somewhat rudely interrupted before things could go any further as Clint came barreling into the kitchen on a bee-line for the coffee pot. He froze halfway across the room and turned to look at Steve and Darcy, who were frozen, mouths open in surprise, arms still tangled around each other. Steve knew that there was no hiding that they had been pretty seriously making out.

The silence dragged on for a moment. And then Clint said “FINALLY,” in a long suffering tone and continued on to the coffee.

Steve heard a little snort from where Darcy had pressed her face into his chest. It quickly progressed to a full blown laugh. He couldn’t stop himself from joining her. Clint raised an eyebrow at them as Darcy was half doubled over, clutching Steve’s arm for support as she was caught up in gales of laughter.

“Jesus, get a room,” said Clint sourly from the coffee pot, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his grin, so Steve just winked at him, picked Darcy up in one smooth motion, and walked out of the kitchen.

+

+

Some time later, after finding a bit more private a place to get adjusted to this new development, Steve lay stretched out beside Darcy, a hand idly running up and down her arm. There were some rules from his time that Steve still thought were pretty important. Especially the one about how you didn’t just sleep with the girl you loved, even if you really wanted to. But after nothing but kissing her (well, necking like teenagers, really) he could tell that it wasn’t exactly going to be easy. He smiled. There was a lot to be said for things that weren’t easy, in his opinion.

“Hey Darcy,” he said after a comfortable moment of stillness had passed.

“Hmmm?” she sounded dreamy and distracted and he would happily take credit for that.

“Will you go to Stark’s Christmas party with me?” he asked like he should have in the kitchen the day before, like he should have done _weeks_ ago, to be honest.

“Yeah,” she said, quick and easy, a smile on her lips, “I’d love to.”

“It’ll mean…” he paused, threading his fingers through her, “there’ll be press there. The Captain will have to make an appearance.”

She paused, then shifted to look at him, her head propped up on her elbow. “I can just go with the group, meet you on the other side of the red carpet,” she said, eyes clear and understanding.

“No,” he said, squeezing her fingers, “part of me wants that, just to keep you safe. But it isn’t in me to hide this. I want you there with me, if you think you wouldn’t mind…”

She smiled brilliantly at him. “Bring on the tabloids Captain,” she said leaning over to kiss him on the forehead, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do so long as I can come home with you.”

He rolled over, pinning her on her back between his arms before leaning down to press a quick kiss against her lips. “Does that mean I can skip ahead to what you’re reading?” he grinned and reached out to grab the paperback that sat by her bed.

She rolled her eyes and snatched it away from him, whacking him lightly on the head. “Dream on Steve,” she grinned, “You’re barely ready for the 70s.”

+

+

Her dress was red velvet, something out of his era really. The neckline dipped just far enough to be decent, the bodice clung to her waist like a second skin, and the full skirt hung in rich folds to just below her knees. She had made Steve’s mouth go dry when he had picked her up at her door. He thought maybe a few other people thought she looked pretty swell as well, judging by the way the red carpet exploded in flashbulbs the moment they stepped out of the car.

She looked at bit nervous, so he leaned over and pressed a kiss behind her ear.

“Hey Cap, who’s that lovely young lady!” a carrying voice behind a camera shouted at them. It was followed by what seemed like a million others.

“You sure you’re ready to go public with Captain America?” he whispered to her, squeezing her hand.

“Hell no,” she whispered back in a determined voice, “I am ready to go to my friend’s Christmas party with the man I love. Anyone who wants to make anything else of it can fuck right off.”

He laughed, and there would be pictures all over of that moment, his head tilted back and eyes closed in mirth, Darcy tucked in close beside him, love in her eyes and a sardonic twist on her lips.

They started down the carpet, and Steve called out to the reported with the loud voice.

“Sorry fella,” he pulled Darcy a bit closer, “but this one’s mine.”


End file.
